Andy’s party was supposed to happen on Sunday 21, but not the way it really happened. JP arrived that same day from Qatar and we had plenty reasons to celebrate.
Being a Sunday, I knew guard George and I would have to sweat a good part of the afternoon to be ready around 6pm. But the truth is that Paul said the magical word “feijoada” and soon, before 1pm, a crowd of 30 noisy, thirsty souls invaded our backyard.
I don’t mind parties and happy people, on the contrary, but I do like things to happen my own way. When I am forced to watch people dancing and drinking right after my breakfast (It was Sunday, per Jupiter!), my mood turns a bit sour.
Anyway, George and I have done all we could to make Andy feel happy and JP welcomed. I suppose we succeeded. There were broken glasses, tears and conspiracy clouds… The contrary would mean boring.
Looking back through the blurred window of the days already past, I can realize now that this party group seem to be getting old very fast, so fast they didn’t have time to realize it yet.